Journey of Awakening

by Shawna Thomas

  * * *

  Gunari stood over the supine body of his son. His face was impassive, the evidence of tension found in his shoulders.

  He cleared his throat. “You said he passed water. This is a good sign?”

  Sara stepped forward. The Akier had not taken his eyes off the boy. “Yes. He’s also swallowed a few times and opened his eyes once.”

  At the last bit of news, Gunari’s head jerked slightly but when he turned his gaze on her, it was guarded. “Thank you. Let me know if anything further should happen.” He nodded, turned and left the room.

  Sara watched him go. She’d sent a messenger that morning with word of Shandor’s progress. Gunari had waited most of the day to arrive. She couldn’t blame him—hope deferred was a painful thing, but she couldn’t believe it was better not to hope at all. She turned to Shandor, bent and stroked his face. “You’re getting better. I know it, you know it and soon, your father will too.” He’d have to. They only had four more days until the new moon.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Vadoma has been restored to her rightful place among the Zorcani.” The fire flickered, outlining Gunari’s features in alternating light and shadow. Deep creases lined his forehead. The Akier stared at the floor as though he sought to find answers in the rushes scattered across the uneven floor.

  Sara looked to Zeynel. He’d been busy while she hovered over Shandor, learning as much as he could about the Zorcani. “That is as it should be,” she said.

  “We will make reparations. The people will know she has done no wrong. She asked to see Shandor.”

  “Of course. I look forward to seeing her again,” Sara said. “We can discuss Shandor’s treatment so she will be prepared to take over when I leave.”

  Shandor had improved even faster than she’d hoped. He was now taking bread soaked in broth and sitting up in bed. He was still a long way from recovery and would need Vadoma’s care for a considerable time, but he was well on his way. Sara smiled as she thought of her patient. He was a sweet boy, following her movements in the tsera with serious dark eyes or listening to her stories with undivided attention. He had the kind of eyes that were profound and full, like a quiet pool deeper than one can fathom. His muscles had atrophied to such an extent that, right now, walking was impossible. That morning, she’d started teaching him exercises to strengthen his legs and arms. Shandor set about doing the simple moves with such a single-minded intensity she’d made him rest, cautioning him on the dangers of overexertion. He was still sleeping when Gunari’s messenger had called her to his tsera.

  Aisha’s entrance interrupted the silence. The woman inclined her head in respect. She carried a tray of steaming mugs, a plate of unleavened bread called pufe and a thick substance they scooped up with the bread that had a slight fruity flavor. A soft smile touched her face as she caught Sara’s eye, then she bowed and left.

  Gunari cleared his throat.

  “Can we see Danladi?” Sara asked.

  Gunari had the grace to look embarrassed. “He will be brought to you.”

  “Do you think we would risk all we have only to steal him in the night?” Zeynel’s voice had an edge.

  “No. Of course not. I have...I have grown fond of the boy. I would like to say goodbye.”

  Sara took a sip of the fragrant tea and glanced toward Zeynel before settling her gaze on a waiting Gunari. “Very well, then why have you called us here?” she asked.

  The Regent Akier visibly swallowed. “I have wronged the Heleini and my own people. War now hovers in the distance. I can smell it. In seeking life for my people, I have brought death. I owe you a great debt. You have given my people hope even as I have taken it away.”

  “It is not I who owns your debt, Gunari.” Sara sipped the hot liquid. If he wanted her sympathy, he would be disappointed.

  The Akier nodded and his shoulders sagged even further. “No. Your success in healing Shandor will not appease Tobar’s wrath at the offense. But his quarrel doesn’t touch my people, only me. When the sun gains strength, I will take Danladi back to the Heleini and accept my fate at Tobar’s hand.”

  “Since when are a people’s fate divorced from their leader’s?” Zeynel asked.

  Gunari inclined his head in silent concurrence.

  Sara fought back a wave of impatience. “What agreement did you have with the Rabishi?” she asked.

  “It seemed simple, deceptively so.” Gunari shrugged. “The trader served as emissary. He worked out the details. They would bring us Danladi and we...we would support them in taking what they needed from the Faisach.” A moment of confusion crossed his face before resuming his monologue, his voice dreamlike.

  “And it wasn’t the Regent Akier of the Rabishi but his second born who delivered the boy. I don’t know if Niku or the Akier knew of the plan at all. I doubt they did.” He paused, seemingly deep in thought, then continued. “The Heleini would have eventually disbanded, if not in my lifetime then in Danladi’s, and where else would the Heleini have come to for leadership but their former Akier? The Zorcani numbers would swell and we would master the Faisach. The Rabishi would be forced to follow suit and join. They can no longer survive in the marshes and could only occupy the southlands by our permission.” His eyes focused on Sara and Zeynel. “Don’t you see? If Danladi had become our Akier, all the tribes would have been united once again.”

  “And under Zorcani rule?” Sara asked.

  Gunari took a long time to answer. “Yes.”

  “And you were to have been the father of a new, stronger, united People.” The Akier could not meet Zeynel’s gaze.

  Gunari nodded. “It is not an excuse. But I was desperate and the trader spoke with persuasion.”

  It made sense, in a twisted, selfish way. But it was naive. Tobar would not sit idly by and watch his people dissolve. He would have taken his warriors and razed the Rabishi then turned his attention to the Zorcani. The Heleini would have nothing to lose and would rather die as warriors, killing their enemies, bleeding on the mountain slopes, but taking an equal number of Zorcani with them, before fading away under the Faisach sun. Surely, Gunari could see that.

  “Tell me of the trader,” Sara asked.

  Gunari looked up, surprise on his features. “He was just...he was a trader, but then...” He paused. “No. That is what my heart wanted me to believe. He spoke with cleverness. Said what I wanted to hear. He spoke of a new era, no more scattered tribes, but one people under my rule. Of taking a tragedy and transforming it into a history-making event that people would speak of for generations. It made sense...” Gunari rubbed his forehead. “How could I have been so blind? But his voice...his words... He would place his hand over his chest, just like you do at times and... Everything was clear, and I wanted to make him proud.”

  “You what?”

  “It doesn’t make sense now. I know. But at the time, he seemed to see such a future for me, more than I would have asked for or expected. I wanted to prove to him his faith in me wasn’t misplaced.” Gunari rubbed his chin. “But I was a fool.” He met Sara’s gaze. “Will Tobar accept compensation?”

  “That is for him to say.”

  “You know him, Healer. Direct me and I will now do what I can to make this right. I will offer my life in exchange for that of my people.”

  “I can’t instruct you on the way of the People, Gunari. I see the love you have for your tribe, but that love is mixed with a wish for glory. You love your son, but did not respect the same love of another father. It is not for me to judge. As soon as it can be arranged, Zeynel and I will take Danladi back to Tobar.”

  “That’s madness. Wait until the thaw. The mountains—”

  “Gunari, if it were your son, would you want me to wait until thaw to return him to you? Do you think Tobar will wait that long? After the new moon he will assume I have
failed.”

  Gunari closed his eyes. When he opened them, they shone with determination. “As soon as you say Shandor is strong enough, I will accompany you, Sara, gift of the Heleini, and Danladi. Together, we will cross the Faisach and set this wrong right.”

  Zeynel set his cup down drained of its contents. “Then Gunari, if you are correct, and the Rabishi Akier is ignorant of his son’s conspiracies, I suggest you send messengers immediately to let him know that Tobar of the Heleini could be breathing fire on his doorstep before the moon is new.”

  * * *

  The ever-present wind whipped at her hood. Sara pulled it farther over her face then linked arms with Zeynel as they made their way back to Shandor’s tsera.

  “What a waste.”

  The wind caught her words and tossed them high into the gray skies.

  “Do not be too hard on him, Sara. He was dealing with a power that none of them can grasp, let alone defy.”

  “You mean they had no choice?”

  “That is not what I said. But it would take an exceptional mind to withstand Crioch. Few men, even kings or Akiers, are that exceptional.”

  “So, this is what that stone does?”

  “Yes and no. This is not what Crioch was created to do, but it is capable of swaying men’s thoughts. Remember I said the stones have no power apart from their keeper. Teann has been twisted and scored beyond recognition, but it is still Teann, and the stone suffers under the rule of its master.”

  “Could you withstand it?”

  Zeynel was quiet for so long she began to think he wouldn’t answer, then softly he said, “I would not want to be put to the test.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Bredych pushed through the dim forest with silent tread, his ear tuned to the language of the encroaching gloom. Now and then, he could hear the rush of the river, revived by winter storms and fighting to remain free of the ice that encroached along its banks.

  They were ahead; he could sense them at a clearing near the river, a patch of barren earth where life had waned, crushed by returning feet. He’d noted over the years that men’s habits were engrained to such a numbing extent that they would welcome death rather than change. So be it. In the end, they all died. But maybe these lives could be of use a little longer. The fact that the stone keeper traveled with a Shamyrddin-enki was troubling on many levels. There was a possibility they could heal the Zorcani brat and he didn’t like loose threads.

  But now he had an opportunity to test the woman’s mettle and to remove the teacher too. Two for one—a prospect he could not afford to pass up.

  Darkness seethed around him, the small glen reeked of rot. The deep forest brooded where moss clung to gnarled trees and seeping earth hid under a layer of rotten leaves. Through the thick foliage, he spotted the flicker of flame. Men huddled on felled tree trunks around the fire, speaking in stealthy tones, clothes hanging like rags over scrawny frames. The Rabishi seemed more like refugees than warriors. He smirked. And they were nearer death than any of them dreamed.

  Bredych edged closer, biding his time to reveal himself, watching and listening. They were discussing whether they should take their catch back to the village. He closed his eyes to broaden his senses, to savor breaths thinned by fear and the curious resonance of voices vibrating off empty stomachs. The breeze shifted and a whiff of swiftly decaying meat wrinkled his nose. He traced the scent to a wagon piled with carcasses. It appears you’ve lingered too long, passed-over son of Niku.

  Without a sound, he stepped into the firelight. Men stood as they reached for their weapons, but it was an automatic gesture soon arrested by conscious self-preservation. Foolish Rabishi, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.

  “Trader! What are you doing here?” Cais exclaimed.

  The trader repressed a smile, enjoying the fear in the Rabishi’s gaze.

  With deliberation, he bowed low, extending one arm to his side with a flourish and bringing the other to his body. “Are we not friends? Am I not welcome to share your fire?”

  Cais scrambled to his feet. “Of course, Trader, please come.”

  One by one, the men sat awkwardly around the fire, giving a wide berth to the trader so they were shoulder to shoulder, like cattle. The fire warmed their leather garments and released the pungent smell of unwashed bodies and fear, but chased away the chill of evening far enough to warm his face, leaving his back in cold shadow.

  The trader accepted the bowl one of the men offered. He sniffed at watered-down stew and rested the bowl on the ground, watching as the men followed its progression with hungry eyes. They’re saving the meat for their families, how quaint.

  “Forgive me, I just... I did not expect you so soon,” Cais said.

  The trader waved a hand. “And indeed why should you?”

  “Trader.” Cais stared at his men and swallowed. “My men, I mean—what should we call you?”

  The trader fixed him with his gaze, watching as the man shrunk. “I believe I told you, you could call me Trader.” Having delusions of equality, are you? My name? You will not have that or any power over me, Rabishi. “If that is not enough, you can call me Lord Trader.”

  “I...I meant no offense, but we’ve been working together and I...” His words died under Bredych’s gaze.

  He tired of the game. “Enough. I bring you dire news.”

  Cais’s face paled further. “Yes?”

  “I’ve discovered that a powerful witch has come to the Zorcani. It is possible the Heleini Akier sent her.” He paused, taking in the pallor of Cais’s face flicked with color by the dying flames as though he wore a mask of light. “There is a chance, however small, that she may heal the boy. If she does, the Zorcani will return the Heleini spawn. Gunari will plead before the great Heleini Akier and there will be peace between them.” He paused, letting his gaze wander over each of the men around the fire. Their faces were drawn, tired. “The Zorcani will claim the abduction was a Rabishi plan and the Heleini will be down your throats before the thaw.”

  In the distance, a horse whinnied, breaking the silence. The trader rose and shook out his cloak. “My friend, the Zorcani have betrayed you.”

  “Wouldn’t that be just?” Cais pressed his fingers to his eyebrows, his voice full of self-recrimination.

  The trader narrowed his eyes. That would not do. “Is it just that the Rabishi starve while the Heleini wallow in their wealth? You speak to me of justice, you of all people?” He placed his will in the words.

  Cais rose to his feet. “Forgive me. It is...a difficult thing I do.”

  “Heroes are made by difficult circumstance. Or did you think saving your people would be an easy task?”

  Cais shook his head slowly from side to side. “My people are everything to me.”

  “Then you would be wise to listen.”

  “I have followed your every suggestion.”

  “Did you leave the hoof prints like I ordered?”

  “Yes. The Heleini should have found the Zorcani prints.”

  Then the Heleini did send the woman. His plan would have worked if not for the Shamyrddin-enki. Damn him. The Heleini should be dying in a shower of darts deep in the Zorcani mountains now. “Not too obvious?”

  “No. I followed your counsel in every detail.”

  “Good. I will forgive you for doubting me. There is much at stake and perhaps you are not thinking clearly. I placed my own life in jeopardy for you and your clan. Have you forgotten?”

  Heads were quickly shaken around the fire, scraggly beards rubbing against thinned furs.

  “If the witch heals the boy, then they will take the Heleini brat back to his people and all will be lost.”

  Cais put his fingers to his eyes and pressed. “But what can we do? We did not plan for this.”

  He slapped
Cais hard, the noise stilling the lullaby of the forest. Several men half rose, hands on their sword hilts. The trader turned to them, a smile on his face. The men glanced at one another seemingly in confusion before sitting back down.

  The trader turned his attention back to Cais as though the others didn’t exist. “Think. If the boy returns to his people, his father will waste no time. His warriors will be at the Rabishi swamps within a span of days and who will meet them?” He spread his hand to include the men. “These, your best warriors? Do you even have a decent horse between you? And, if you manage somehow to drive them off, what of your people? You bring them a cartload of stinking flesh. Meat that, without salt, won’t even last a fraction of the winter.” The trader took a deep breath and modulated his tone. “Sit, Cais.”

  The Rabishi sat near his men, looking up at the trader with expectant eyes empty of hope like a much-beaten mongrel.

  “You must watch the path leading to and from the mountain. Perhaps your vigil will be long and fruitless but fate rewards caution and patience. If you hear, and you would hear them, the Heleini hordes marching on the Zorcani stronghold, you will have nothing left to fear. Go back to your marshes and wait for the tribes to destroy each other.

  “But any group coming down the mountain from the Zorcani stronghold will signal something portentous is afoot. Your task is not difficult, because in ordinary circumstances no Zorcani would risk traveling until the thaw. If a group ventures down, you must strike and erase every trace of them from the Faisach. The Heleini must continue to believe the boy is with the Zorcani. Let them fight it out and weaken each other. Then you, my friend, and your tribe can have the spoils of both. Success is still within your reach if you have the courage to grasp it.”

  He read the indecision on Cais’s face. Grief mixed with resignation. “We will need better horses.”

  “Follow Ailas.” He pointed to the river. “It will wind through the mountain west then south. When the river empties into a lake, continue south. If you’re clever, you will find an old trail. Follow it. In a grove of n’denda trees, at the lip of a box canyon, the Zorcani keep a corral. It will be guarded by only two men and there are at least four good horses there.” Bredych let a smile touch his mouth. “And the rest are better than your mounts. All I ask is that you leave your horses in exchange. I am, as you know, a trader, and subject to the trader’s creed.” His smile widened then disappeared. “If there are fewer than two tens and five horses in the stable, then you’ll know a Zorcani group is ahead of you. If you value your people, make haste to catch them.”